


Damage Control

by silverlining99



Category: Star Trek (2009)
Genre: F/M, Genderswap
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-08-01
Updated: 2009-08-01
Packaged: 2017-10-28 19:42:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,622
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/311500
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/silverlining99/pseuds/silverlining99
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was a stupid accident that should not have happened, and Jim is a moron, and McCoy is never going to forgive him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Damage Control

There has been a growing tally over the past three weeks of things Leonard McCoy would like to repeat to Jim Kirk until each and every one of them sink in.

First: no matter how many times he apologizes, it will not change the fact that it was a stupid accident that should not have happened, and that Jim is a moron, and that McCoy is never going to forgive him.

Second: McCoy damn well expects him to devote, and to _keep_ devoting, just about every second of his days to finding a solution to the problem, whether it be by leaving McCoy the hell alone until McCoy figures it out independently, or by putting the crew to work on it, hell with everything else, or by pulling a goddamn miracle out of his own damn ass for this like he has so many other times, for so many other situations.

Third: this absolutely sucks and McCoy is _never_ going to forgive him.

Fourth (and the most recent entry on the list): all prior entries will be disregarded, erased, and forever forgotten about if Jim would just hurry up and fuck him already. Her. Damn it, the whole thing gives McCoy a headache, but for all ~~he~~ she knows that's the PMS talking.

Yes, the PMS. Rethinking the matter, McCoy is pretty sure that no matter how good a lay Jim turns out to be -- if he would ever _get on with it_ , at least -- he is never, ever going to forgive Jim for the fact that _he_ has spent three weeks as a fucking _she_ and currently has cramps from hell.

"Bones," Jim says breathlessly, his mouth red, his lower lip swollen by the vicious, unrelenting pull of McCoy's kiss. He scrabbles at the hem of McCoy's shirt, lifts it up and off. "Oh, _man_ , Bones."

"That better not have been a joke," McCoy snaps, and arches back as Jim ducks down to suck on one pert nipple.

Jim laughs, his mouth full of soft flesh. He wraps his arms around the narrowest part of McCoy's waist -- and it's still so strange, after all this time, to have her attention called to how things taper and curve in new ways -- and lifts, and McCoy hops into it, brings her legs up to curl around Jim's hips. "I hate you," she adds, and gasps as Jim releases her breast with a scrape of his teeth and wet popping sound.

"No, you don't," Jim mumbles, licking up her sternum as he carries her to his bed. "Not even a little."

"A _lot_."

"Then why'd you ask me?" Jim sets her down and steps back, starts stripping efficiently. "You could've made Chekov's _life_ , you know." He smirks and shoves his pants down. McCoy stares at his cock; she's seen it before during exams but never like this, never hard and long and slim, dusky at the base and reddening towards the head. She licks her lips and winces as sensation tightens low in her belly. "But no," Jim goes on, and strokes himself slowly. "You picked _me_."

"I picked you because you'll fuck anyone," she says tersely, and flops onto her back to unzip her pants and wriggle out of them, "not to mention the fact I have enough dirt on you to know you'll never breathe a word of this."

"Liar, liar," Jim sing-songs, and catches her ankles, helps tug them free. He drops the fabric to the floor but keeps her legs held up, kisses the soles of her feet. He tickles the arches with the tip of his tongue, first one and then the other, and laughs as McCoy squirms and jerks. "That's okay." He kisses the hollow behind one ankle. "You'll sing a different tune when I'm done with you," he murmurs, and releases McCoy's other leg as he mouths his way down, slowly lowering to kneel on the floor.

"Jim," McCoy says, and hooks her freed leg around his back. She hates the breathy sound of her voice, the highness of it, the pitch she's used to hearing offered _to_ her, _from_ her own actions. Jim bites at her inner thigh, licks the dull hurt away before palming it aside, spreading her wide. He grins up at her and she scowls. "Gimme your damn mouth already."

"Yes, ma'am," Jim says crisply, and offers a fast, cheeky salute before bowing his head and licking quickly, teasingly at her clit. She twitches from the brief touch. "Mmm," he murmurs, and adjusts her legs to rest over his shoulders, wraps his arms back up and over. He blows a cool stream of air between pursed lips and then latches his mouth firmly over her.

"Oh, good god _damn_ ," McCoy gasps, and bucks up helplessly. Jim tightens his arms and holds her as still as possible and flicks his tongue rapidly. She digs an elbow into the mattress to help her body arch as it wants to, and presses her other hand to her abdomen, gritting her teeth against the tight pressure she can't quite distinguish between more cramping and sheer pleasure. "Fuck, Jim," she grinds out, and digs her heels into his back. "You fucker, god, just -- _fuck_. Don't stop or I'll kill you, I swear to -- fuck, fuck, oh fuck, Jim, I can't -- ah!"

The tension breaks suddenly, a sharp, shuddering relief that washes through her and makes her collapse clumsily. Jim lifts his head and kisses her hip. His chin slides, wet, across her skin. "Still hate me?" he asks curiously.

McCoy waves one hand weakly. "Yeah."

"Huh." Jim moves her legs and stands, leans over her with his arms braces on either side of her arms. "That totally sucks, Bones. You're an ingrate, has anyone ever told you that?"

"My ex," she admits dryly, and shifts restlessly as Jim presses his cock into place. "She may have had a point."

"Definitely," Jim agrees, and hisses as he slips into her. "Ahh. Yeah, that's good, that's --"

McCoy pushes up onto her elbows and watches as Jim pushes further in. Like looking in a mirror, she thinks fuzzily, everything all backwards and screwy. Jim pauses, and she meets his eyes, and he grins slowly and suddenly snaps forward hard, goes deep. She winces at the flare of pain, but it fades fast, goes dull. Jim slips an arm under her back and nudges his hips a little. "Tell me when," he says tightly.

" _Now_ , moron," she says, and wraps her legs around him. She squeezes experimentally around his cock and smirks when he gasps and thrusts. "Goddamn, that's just -- that's just strange."

"Strange?" Jim echoes indignantly. He begins moving steadily, long and even strokes. "Says the guy who turned into a - ow!"

McCoy rubs the back of his head, a silent apology for smacking the same spot. "No more talking," she says, and lifts her hips. "Weren't you supposed to fuck me or something?"

Jim's grin returns in a flash, on his way to catching her mouth. "Don't take this the wrong way," he mumbles between long, lewd kisses, moving faster, harder, "but you make a really awesome chick, Bones."

"Shut. Up," Bones growls, and whimpers as she feels tension begin building again. Jim laughs against her mouth and goes for it in earnest. Her body jostles up along the bed and he gets his other arm under her, yanks her back each time. Her hips slip off the edge, then most of her back, and his knees bend and she drops a leg to try to find footing against the floor, digs her shoulders into the edge of the bed and arches up so hard her back aches. Jim sucks a painful bruise against her throat and makes low, deep noises each time he slams in deep. She flings her arms out and clutches at the blanket, tries not to get dragged all the way off the bed.

Jim squeezes her in a vice grip and snaps his hips and lifts her, nearly throws her back along the mattress. He catches her legs in the crooks of his arms and folds her in on herself. She wraps her arms around his neck and drags his mouth to hers and moans as each relentless stroke of his cock rubs a spot inside her and makes her ache. "Bones," he gasps. "Bones, come _on_."

McCoy tips her head back and _screams_ as she shatters apart. Jim groans, long and deep in his throat, and he keeps pumping in all the way through his release, rides it out steadily. He stills slowly, gradually, and he lets her legs down and rests his weight on one forearm, catches her chin in his hand and kisses her thoroughly, sweetly.

When he pulls out, he merely shifts over and collapses on his stomach next to her. McCoy doesn't move, just lets her legs dangle over the edge of the bed while she goes on trying to catch her breath. "Do you hate me now?" Jim asks after a few long, silent minutes.

McCoy turns her head and looks at him. He looks back, one-eyes, his face half smashed into the blanket. "No," she says shortly. "But I reserve the right to start again any time I feel like it."

"Fickle," Jim says lightly. "'Kay. Least now I know what to do about it."

"Yeah, yeah," McCoy says dryly. "This'll work, I suppose, until we figure out how to fix me."

"We will." Jim reaches and wraps his arm across her belly. "But you'll find a reason to hate me again even after that. Think it'll still work?"

"Worth a shot," she mutters, and closes her eyes and feels better about things than she has in weeks.


End file.
